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Tag Archives: The Rolling Stones

Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones enjoying the pool at the Manger Motor Lodge in Savannah, GA

Just imagine your luck stumbling across this little gem… 23 original, never-before-seen photos of the Rolling Stones resting unmolested in an unmarked box? Yes, please. That’s exactly what Lauren White found herself staring at when a friendly, unassuming flea market dealer put them before her kindly with a wink and a nudge. Turns out they were taken (photographer unknown…) during the Rolling Stones American tour through Savannah, Georgia and Clearwater, Florida in 1965.

“He obviously didn’t know what he had. To tell the truth, I didn’t either. I obviously knew it was the Stones, but it took about a week of looking them over to realize that this was really a very unique circumstance. After extensive research, I came to find that these are unpublished, never-before-seen photos of one of the most legendary bands in rock ‘n’ roll history. Not only that, they are beautifully composed, candid, raw and perfect in every way. They really convey a band innocent to their destiny.

In a lot of the images, the guys are looking directly into the lens. It’s hard to get boys to be that vulnerable, especially in front of a camera. They are also sort of showing off. I think a girl is the only thing that could convince them to allow those kinds of shots. It’s hard to imagine a dude is evoking these intimate moments, but you never know.”–Lauren White

The flamboyantly natty Savile Row tailor Tommy Nutter with his dogs. “Although tailoring was quite distinct from fashion then, Tommy Nutter changed the way men dressed,” says Dennis Nothdruft, who co-curated the 2011 retrospective (Tommy Nutter: Rebel on the Row) at the Fashion and Textile Museum in London along with tailor Timothy Everest. “And he changed the way Savile Row was seen. Before Nutters it was an exclusive, closed-off world. They didn’t even have window displays. Though, of course, the rest of the row looked upon him as an upstart whose shop was on the wrong side of the street.” (The huge purple candles in the shape of phalluses can’t exactly have endeared him to his neighbors… Another legend, Simon Doonan, was Nutter’s window dresser back in those days.) via

Tommy Nutter will always be known as the flamboyant bee in Savile Row’s stuffy bonnet. Trained as a traditional tailor, the sexy and innovative Nutter was not happy following the status quo of stuffy Savile Row and literally took matters into his own hands. He created a sensation with his bold, signature look– wide shoulders, unapologetic lapels, bold fabrics & patterns. Nutter soon became the darling of the celebrity and rock ‘n’ roll scene– clothing the likes of The Rolling Stones, Bianca Jagger, Elton John, Eric Clapton, The Beatles, Vidal Sassoon, Twiggy, David Hockney, and many others. His influence can still be seen today, through the apprentices who worked under him (John Galliano for one), and in the young new designers of today (E. Tautz) who are rediscovering his work. Tommy Nutter has forever left a mark on Savile Row, and defined a moment in time when bigger truly was better.

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Designers like Tom Ford (who favors strong lapels and chunky neckwear) have famously cited Tommy Nutter as an influence. Bianca on Mick Jagger’s arm as he struts in his Tommy Nutter duds– from the book Day of the Peacock by Geoffrey Aquilina Ross that is an incredible visual chronicle of the flashy and flamboyant menswear style from 1963-1973.

“Some of my most outrageous nights– I can only believe actually happened because of corroborating evidence. No wonder I’m famous for partying! The ultimate party– if it’s any good– you can’t remember it.” –Keith Richards

The Rolling Stones embarked on their 1972 American tour to support the release of Exile on Main Street— which in and of itself was a push into new territory for the band, both musically and commercially. What followed rewrote the game for The Stones and the music industry, and basically set the stage for a decade of big, balls-out tours that went from being simple promotional vehicles the pop culture events. Nothing like this had been done in Rock ‘n’ Roll prior and all subsequent tours would follow the ’72 tour blueprint for scale, attempted musicality, logistics, legal entanglements, drugs, women, hilarity, hangers-on, and general debauchery.

After attending Hunter College in NYC, Robert Altman apprenticed under none other than Ansel Adams. He then went on to serve as Chief Staff Photographer for Rolling Stone magazine from 1969-1971. Many of Altman’s images became iconic for the brilliant and passionate way he captured those that shaped music history in particular, and the ’60s & ’70s culture at large.

Keith Richards with German model/actress Uschi Obermaier during the Rolling Stones’ 1975 Tour of the Americas. –Photo by Christopher Simon Sykes/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

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The sexy German model was with the Rolling Stones on their ’75 tour, and bedded both Mick & Keef. Uschi later rated the boys, saying, “Mick is the most charming man in the world, but Keith is the better lover. He just knows the anatomy of women…”

When Anita got word of Keef’s tryst with Uschi, she furiously charged at him, and grabbed him by the hair and screamed, “You f*cking messer, You’ve been messing with this bird!”

Uschi makes it clear that she and Keith loved each other– and that while Anita often lamented over Keef’s lacking libido, Uschi, by her account, had no problem keeping her man in bed for days at a time. “With me, there was never a problem.”

Not barely four months after Woodstock, Altamont would prove to be worlds apart from its predecessor. For reasons largely unforeseen, or at least unacknowledged at the time, there was a definite divide in ideology between the American hippies in the crowd, and some of the English rockers onstage– for whom this hippie-trippy way of life was hard to swallow. For some it was simply naive, and to others– it was downright offensive. Pete Townsend in particular left Woodstock with a bad taste in his mouth– “All those hippies wandering about thinking the world was going to be different from that day on… As a cynical English arsehole, I walked through it all and felt like spitting on the lot of them…” Country Joe countered with his personal recollection of Pete at Woodstock. “I saw Townshend pull up in his limo, then do his set, and leave. That’s the sum total of his experience of Woodstock. He played at it but he wasn’t really part of it.”

Look, we all go through life with our own backgrounds, beliefs and expectations that impact our openness to ideas, and color our perceptions of attitudes and events. That being said– Is Townsend really there to “experience Woodstock”, or is he there to put on a great Who show? Whose place is it to dictate that everyone passing through the ’60s has to buy into the damn hippie lifestyle? It clearly wasn’t for everyone. Certainly not for the Rolling Stones.

By 1969, the Rolling Stones were a band with a well-established attitude of monstrous proportions. They were effin’ rock stars baby, and royalty at that. The world was their stage– and they saw Stones’ fans as their subjects. There to adore them and feed their egos. They didn’t come into Altamont with the idea that it would be a lovefest. Strangely, Mick Jagger was going through a phase of curiosity in Satanism and the occult at that time– but he would be far from prepared for the darkness that would unfold at his feet on that December day.

Altamont and the Charlie Manson murders would effectively usher out the age of the hippie. But was the hippie movement even real outside of the provincial confines of Woodstock and Haight Ashbury? Or, were we all just temporarily clouded by the sweet scent of a movement that was never more than a passing fad or fashion for most?

When I’m feeling roadworn, forlorn, or the subject of scorn– nothing takes me to my happy place faster than great old pics of guitar porn. I came across the below Stones’ porn pic sifting through the internets and became mesmerized by the artfully haphazard array of axes. You can almost smell the sweat, smoke and stale beer as you gaze at the overturned cans, ash, and listing guitars.

The late ’60s – early ’70s was an epic time for the Rolling Stones, and Rock & Roll as a whole. It was a time I largely missed (being born in 1970), but feel like I experienced, partially at least, vicariously through my mom. She was a music junkie, went to Woodstock, worshipped Janis Joplin.

Because of her we had stacks of records, taller than me as a kid, right at my fingertips. Aside from the epic music itself that I soaked-up, the album artwork and liner notes were pure magic, and heavily influential to this day– forever etched into my psyche. I remember hearing “Paint it Black” crackling on the turntable– the sound of Brian Jones on the sitar lulling me into a sedated state of wonder. Today I appreciate the Stones more than ever– as through the decades they’ve proven again and again that a band like that only comes around once or twice a generation in terms of musicianship, influence, and longevity. And the icing on the cake is the epic tales of their early days and ways of excess.

1969 pic of the Rolling Stones’ guitar/bass lineup– appears they were hard on everything then.

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Brian Jones (on his Fender Telecaster) throwin’ some heavy, funk vibe — way pre-Lenny Kravitz. There’d be no Rolling Stones without Jones, who was undoubtedly the most versatile musician ever to bless the band, and easily rivaled Mick Jagger for sex symbol status. Jones also had a very eclectic taste in guitars– amassing a very enviable collection.

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“YOU’RE WELCOME TO SWIM” #1 — Keith Richards and Brian Jones together in happier times– poolside at the Jack Tar Harrison Hotel in Clearwater, Florida on the day that Keith and Mick wrote “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Today this hotel is the headquarters of The Church of Scientology. Later Keith would “rescue” or “steal” Anita Pallenburg from under Jones’ nose, depending on how you look at it– and added insult to injury when both he and Anita (as well as Mick Jagger) were noticeably absent at his funeral. — image by Bob Bonis

At the wee age of 20 years old, guitarist Mick Taylor (of John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers fame) replaced Brian Jones, in what as that time the greatest rock and roll band in the world– the Rolling Stones. Well the best was yet to come, as they went on to record the epic musical masterpieces– Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street.

Then suddenly in ’74, Mick dropped out. Some say he was kicked out– but Taylor simply had enough of the chaos, drugs, and strain that came with being in the Stones. Had he stayed, Taylor adamantly believes that the Stones’ life of debauchery would have killed him.

Growing up in Chicago during the 1970’s and 80’s I had the opportunity to see some truly epic musicians. Luckily, I looked older than my years, and also had the advantage of a stellar fake ID– so Dr. James Fortier, OBGYN could get into any number of late night haunts, concert halls, and after hours clubs. I saw a lot of great acts in those days. However, I contend that no artist I have ever seen, before or since, could hold a candle to Winston Hubert McIntosh, aka Peter Tosh. Peter, usually arriving to the stage late, would literally stalk the floor with intensity. He filled up a hall like no other musician I have ever seen– it was like he sucked the oxygen out of the place. A Peter Tosh concert was a roller coaster ride. He could appear stoned out of his mind, ranting about legalizing ganja use between songs– and then be completely lucid and take on the role of machete wielding revolutionary giving a political speech on the oppression in the Third World and the evils of apartheid. Whenever I saw Peter I could not take my eyes off him– he literally scared/fascinated the hell out of me. And hearing him do a solo version of “Get Up, Stand Up” was a religious experience that hit me like a ton of bricks.

In a lot of ways I think Peter was ahead of his time, and probably is more of a spiritual father to the hip-hop movement than he gets credit for. To say he grew up hard is an understatement. Born to parents who were too young to raise him, Peter was raised by his aunt in the Trenchtown ghetto in Kingston, Jamaica. He taught himself guitar early on by listening to American AM stations from Miami and New Orleans who played the likes of Chuck Berry. Peter became quite a local celebrity in Kingston in the 1960s singing ska, and was introduced by his musical mentor Joe Higgs to Bob Marley and Bunny Wailer.

It was through this fateful hook-up that Peter and Bob became friends and the Wailers were formed. Through Joe’s teaching, the group learned to harmonize and often sang on the street corners of Trenchtown and at various local sets as they got bigger. Through their will, guile and talent, the Wailers became Jamaican superstars and caught the attention of a young, British music exec named Chris Blackwell, who signed them and released their first two albums Catch a Fire and Burnin’ in 1973. I am not sure if Blackwell signed the Wailers solely with the intent of making Bob Marley a star– but after a rather nasty spat over Blackwell’s refusal to record a Tosh solo effort, Peter left the group and began several years of twists and turns. While Marley became the major Reggae star from Jamaica with his “One Love” message, Peter constantly berated a system he felt was unfair and would be beaten and harassed many times by the Jamaican police, even after he’d attained stardom.

Gram Parsons and Keith Richards first met back in 1968. Gram was with the Byrds; touring Europe to promote their landmark Sweetheart of the Rodeo record. When Gram told Keith the band was headed to South Africa, Keith was like– “Man, we don’t go there.” The sanctions and the embargo were on. So Gram quit the Byrds, right there and then. Gram, with nowhere to stay, crashed with Keith in London and fed his friend a steady diet of classic Country music– which would seep its way into the Stones’ sound soon enough.

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As a songwriter, Gram worked very much like I do, which is knock out a couple of chords, start to spiel and see how far it can go. Rather than sitting around with a piece of paper and a pen, trying to make things fit neatly together, if you just get on the microphone, things come to you. Lines come to you that you wouldn’t dream of, because they have to come to you in a split second. Gram liked to do that. But he would also work very hard — harder than I ever did — on honing it down. It’s difficult for me to pick one of his songs as a favorite. ‘Sin City’, on the Flying Burrito Brothers’ first album, is great. I love ‘I Can’t Dance’, on GP. But you’ll never get a full portrait of him from one or two songs.

In 1969, Keith Richards, Gram Parsons, and Anita Pallenberg took a trip (quite literally, I’m sure) to the Joshua Tree National Park. (The amazing photos of that epic trip were taken by Michael Cooper.) Joshua Tree was a place Gram Parsons was quite fond of. He’d spend days there on LSD getting lost, chasing UFOs, whatever. Tragically it was there that it all ended for Gram.

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The drugs and drinking — he was no better or worse than the rest of us. He just made that one fatal mistake — taking that one hit after he cleaned up, still thinking he could take the same amount. And it was too f*cking much. But he didn’t get into dope because of us. He knew his stuff before he met us. I think he was just getting into his stride when he died (In ‘73 Gram Parsons fatally overdosed from a lethal combo of morphine and alcohol). His actual output — the number of records he made and sold — was pretty minimal. But his effect on country music is enormous. This is why we’re talking about him now. But we can’t know what his full impact could have been.